The coffee didn't improve my headache but damn was it a good. I got it from that cafe where Orrong Crescent merges into Alma. Normally the African woman makes the coffee and it's pretty good, good enough to keep us going back there. This time my barista was an old Russian woman. I'm just assuming she was Russian. She had that doughy Eastern European look that a lot of the middle aged women around here have. Hell, I'm not even sure the local ethnicity is Russian, just the language they speak sounds a hell of a lot what I'd expect Russian to sound like.
She spent a little longer making the coffee, rinsed the filters under the hot water from the machine, actually watched while she was steaming the milk, then made sure the foam was collapsed before she added it to the coffee, and damn if it's not the best cup of coffee I can remember having. I went back to the laudromat and listened to the women there tell each other dirty jokes in Russian. Well they were laughing a lot and it amuses me to think they were being filthy, I've got no idea what they were saying. They were probably talking about ironing and washing machines.